Do svidanya Cumrade
by Hotnesspecter88
Summary: Toris can't get Feliks to see reality clearly. Raivis has a penchant for Ivan's torture. Functioning in a communist's house has never been so difficult and...hard. LithuxPoland and RussxLatvia stuff :DDD
1. Chapter 1

"Huh." Lithuania murmured, surveying the room, deep in thought. "I could've sworn that I left it on my desk…" He mused, searching fervently around his small office for his prized possession. His Teutonic-era sword, sheathed in an onyx casing that preserved its luster and enveloped in gold to the hilt, was suddenly missing from his cramped workspace.

"Where could it have gone…no, no, no it _can't _be lost!" Lithuania cried, scattering countless documents from his unstable oak desk to the floor in a panic. It was a vital symbol on his Coat of Arms, without the sword, the knight is nothing! He'd originally brought it in to his workspace in a usually futile attempt to brighten up the gloomy office. Ever since he'd began work-more like _forced_ into work—within the walls of the communist giant's headquarters, he felt confined to an abysmal corner of the large mansion, and depression squeezed in the small office space as well, making itself at home. Thinking it was something like those odd kitten motivator posters America suggested, Lithuania planned to mount his nation's pride, the Teutonic Knight's Sword, on the wall to take his mind off disturbing things in his miserable office.

_Like the pale outlines of old blood spatter that his boss insisted were "Creative wallpaper designs" for example._

An earsplitting scream slowly roused the nervous man from his desperate search. Sprinting from behind his wobbly desk, Lithuania sent foreign relation records flurrying in his wake. Peeking from behind the door frame, he wasn't surprised in the least at what he saw. In fact, he should've expected what he saw at that moment. It would've saved him quite a bit of workspace cleaning and paperwork.

Tearing through the dimly lit hallway at blinding speed and shrieking his tiny lungs out, was none other than his Baltic neighbor Raivas, or as he was known to the world, Latvia. His voice cracked under strain, barely audible as his throat grew undoubtedly raw. And behind him at frightening speed, was the terribly intimidating Communist nightmare, Ivan, or as most nation's fear to call him, Russia.

Lithuania could clearly see why Latvia was raising such commotion; he was scared to death of Russia. He was his favorite torture subject after all, and moments like these were routine. Every day Latvia would carry on, pleading for help as Russia would toss him around like a bean bag, smiling the entire time. And Lithuania was expected to work under these conditions. But he knew better than to complain to Russia. That was…just a terrible idea entirely.

Today Russia chased Latvia recklessly, destroying the hallway in his wake. Even without decent lighting, Lithuania could see Russia carried a new weapon with him, planning to bludgeon Latvia with it. Russia kept in pace with Latvia, and in his right hand, dragged a long sword through the hallway, tracing a deep gash into the unsightly walls as he moved.

Lithuania didn't even have the opportunity to brace himself for what happened next. The smaller Baltic's legs were a blur as he took a quick and unexpected turn into Lithuania's office, blitzing the older man in a painful impact. Coughing painfully as the air was forced from his lungs, Lithuania hunched over, never grasping a free moment to catch his breath as his superior, out of nowhere, appeared before him, grinning like he'd seen something naughty.

And clenched in Ivan's large gloved hands, was a brutalized version of what was once an important part of his Coat of Arms.

_Teutonic sword, you will be dearly missed._ Lithuania winced, attempting to part ways with the mangled remnants of his country's pride without crying. God forbid Ivan sees what anguish it caused him.

"Toris-kun! Spasibo!" Russia praised loudly, lifting Lithuania and embracing him in a quite literally bone-crushing hug against his massive chest. "You saved me the trouble of having to apprehend little Latvia, I will never forget this!" He continued, giggling as he cuddled—more like _suffocated_—his favorite subordinate in euphoric celebration. Lithuania nodded with a grateful smile, it was better to acknowledge Russia's rare moments of praise as long as it caused it to end quickly. He needed to resume breathing at some point, after all.

Russia lowered Lithuania to the floor gently, turning to a whimpering Latvia with a different expression. All evidence of any joviality was wiped clean from his face; a dark, torrential aura in his amethyst eyes, and a crazed smirk on his face.

"Raivis Galante." Russia called, lifting the boy by the scruff of his neck and dangling him in midair as if to emphasize his helplessness. "_**Vy budete platit' dorogo dlya raboty u menya**_. /_You will pay dearly for running from me./_ "He snarled, throwing Latvia over his broad shoulder like he was a pool towel, the small Baltic boy losing consciousness out of sheer fear of the Ruski.

Bowing in apology for disturbing the "peace" of the office, Ivan vacated Lithuania's office, humming Russian folksong as he went. Lithuania shivered in repulsion, sensing sadistic anticipation bleed from the Communist's pores as he trailed down the hallway with his prey, massive boots echoing with a *thump* throughout the hall.

Lithuania exhaled loudly in relief, reclining against his desk, grateful that his heartbeat was returning to a normal pace. Every confrontation with those two often left Lithuania feeling stressed and disoriented. Gathering his documents, he shoved them into a random drawer, quietly making false promises to himself that he'd tidy it all up later. Grabbing his jacket from his wicker chair, he left his office for the day, eager to return home for a bit. Maybe sip some tea, call up Feliks. It'd been so long since he'd last seen or spoken to Poland, he couldn't help but miss the distracted ex-ally.

Lifting the receiver, Toris dialed the number he'd committed to memory since his alliance with Poland had been cruelly severed.

After a few monotone rings, Feliks picked up, answering with his usual sentiments.

"Liiike….hello?"

"H-h-hello Feliks…how have you been as of late?" Lithuania couldn't help but stammer, it'd been so long since he'd spoken to his old friend.

"Umm…I've been busy, actuallyyy. I'm planning on like, making my house super big. And pink. It's going to be like, the pride of the nation." Feliks bragged.

It had only been a minute or two, and Toris was already aggravated by his former allies behavior. Poland had a terrible habit of spending government funds on aesthetic needs and material things for himself, instead of items that could improve his country.

Lithuania looked around his office, his eyes darting around the room and through the mouth of the hallway, ensuring that no one else was eavesdropping.

"D-don't you want to strengthen your military forces? Russia has been talking of plans to invade you, and I'm concerned. What will you do if he attacks you today?" Toris blurted, a strong sense of urgency in his voice. He hated it when Feliks was his usual, naïve self. It caused him a great deal of worry, Poland was such a hassle.

"Liiike, you worry too much, Toris-kun. If that bastard like, tries to invade my fortress, I'll just tell him to like…stop and stuff."

Lithuania couldn't believe his ears. The mighty tyrant psychopath Russia, with his ample forces and unbelievable strength and disturbing ruthlessness, was going to attack small, puny Poland. And Feliks thinks Ivan will desist if he just yells "stop!"?

"Feliks, be reasonable please! Ivan-kun is a devious opponent and he will have no mercy with you!" Lithuania cried, his hands shaking, clamped to the receiver. "I'm warning you because I don't want to see you hurt!"

"…I'll be fine."

"Feliks..." Toris felt a pang of sadness, the bubbly–ness was gone from his friend's voice, now a morose and somewhat annoyed tone replaced it.

"I've like, got to go take care of some things around here, I assure you I can like, handle this. Take care, Toris." The receiver reverted to its growly dial tone as the call disconnected. Toris's hand trembled as it dropped the phone onto its cradle.

He felt terribly guilty that he couldn't help Feliks. It wasn't his fault that he'd lost his ally, he never wanted to separate from Feliks, despite the arguments they had over who would submit to who's culture. He'd always valued him as a comrade, so to speak, and most importantly, as a close friend in which he shared a seemingly unbreakable bond. Maybe something more. But on that infamous wintry night, he'd been ripped from Felik's side, and quite literally dragged into an alliance with the Red Giant, Russia.

And now Feliks was terribly naïve to the danger he was in, vulnerable to Russia's unpredictable attacks. Toris had attempted to show him the reality of the situation, but it'd only served to insult the Polish man.

"He just doesn't understand that I want the best for him...he'll never understand…" Toris hissed to himself in frustration. He cared deeply for Feliks, and always worried about his welfare, even from far away in the belly of the Communist mansion. And in times of trouble, Toris couldn't even aid his former charge. He was trapped, and if anything happened, would be forced by Ivan to watch the chaos and bloodbath from a first person view. Lithuania collapsed into his office chair, hands over his face, tears streaming down his cheeks.

He couldn't stand the torture and the stress of working for Russia anymore, he couldn't take the destruction Ivan wreaked every time he had a whim to expand territory. And Toris would be little, meek Lithuania no longer. He would not allow the death of any more countries, and he'd protect Felix no matter what it took.


	2. Chapter 2

A single chandelier swung on an odd angle, barely connected to the ceiling by a worn, brass chain. An electrical coil wove around it's once beautiful frame, lowering the lights in the hallway to eerily low lit dots.

It was an invention Ivan took pride in, it wasn't as marvelous as his countries other countless scientific leaps and bounds, but it was a creative way to impair his prey's vision so escape would be difficult. He often thought that way when he was bored, he came up with clever tricks and machines to trap his little Latvia and confine him to his personal chambers over and over again.

Eyes alight with anticipation, the Ruski walked down the hallway, hearing a faint whimpering ahead of him in the dark passageway. He was well aware that after he'd recaptured Latvia he'd attempt to escape again once Ivan had his back turned. Laying a trap in the darker areas of the hall was a convenient solution.

Earlier that evening he'd strung a barbed wire from one wall of the hallway to the other, set at Latvia's neck level. Then using a sturdy paint brush, coated the wire with a special solution, a gel aphrodisiac concocted from squared away laboratories back in Moscow. It was an ingenious substance, it worked when applied to any point of entry, and reacted fast, potent as ever. Ivan watched the gel congeal to the wire's form, and bent down as the gel began to drip, catching every droplet on his tongue, savoring the odd flavor.

Now, about 10 minutes had passed by since then, and in a careless attempt of escape, Latvia had connected with the trap, making it an absolute success for the Russian. Ivan smiled as he arrived at the location of the trap. Raivis was sprawled on the floor, a trembling hand clutching at the multiple lacerations weaving a collar-like impression around his neck. But not a drop of blood had escaped, the gel had made its entry first, coating the wound securely. His body shook in complete fear, his eyes wide as they set themselves on the sight of Ivan. He loomed over Latvia, a high pitched giggle rumbling from his large chest.

"Caught ourselves in a trap, have we?" Ivan couldn't stifle the joy in his voice. "You're in quite a predicament, da?"

Latvia's tears pooled upon his cheek, matted auburn hair barely hiding his despair and his pained expression. Ivan lifted him up from the floor gently this time, pressing him against his chest almost protectively, rocking back and forth like a mum nursing her cub. Turning towards his captive, Ivan leaned into the crook of Raivis's neck, hot breath tickling his skin as he spoke. "Tell me you're sorry for running away, Raivis." He murmured softly, lifting a gloved hand to stroke Latvia's neck. "Tell me you didn't mean to run from me." He grazed the wound ever so slightly, Raivis emitting a low sound in response.

Russia smiled at this, feeling a sinister impulse rise within him. He turned around, walking away from the dark end of the hallway, cradling the injured Latvia delicately. It was a rare sight, Russia's intimidating form emerging from the darkness, nursing little Latvia like he was a precious resource, not an expendable amusement.

Exiting the hallway, Russia entered the corridor to his personal chambers, locking the thick, metallic doors behind him, double-checking the locks were securely fastened. This was a routine he often carried out when meeting with his personal boss, he could never be too careful, what with Lithuania's constant gossiping to that insipid Poland, it was a necessary measure to be cautious.

As soon as the bolt locked, Ivan threw the semi-conscious Raivis roughly on to his rickety, worn bed.

"To fall prey to such an obvious trap…you must be ensnaring yourself on purpose, da?" Ivan smiled, grabbing the boy by his ankles none too gently, cuffing each leg to a bedpost.

"N-nn—nnnn-n.."

"N-n-n-n-yes you are." Ivan mocked the boy's impediment cheerfully, departing from the boy's side but for a moment, returning to the bedside with a blunt object, unidentifiable in the darkness.

"You _**crave **_the alone time we have together, don't you?" Ivan's stare bored into Latvia's, who was practically vibrating in fear. "You await my every opportunity to drag you into my private hell, da?" Ivan giggled, unfastening the boy's slacks, yanking them down to his ankles, exposing his milky white skin.

"N-nn—nnn-" Raivis whimpered, tears pouring down his cheeks, unable to utter a word.

"Really, Raivis. It's about time you've taken up Russian, after all, you'll be yet another proud part of Mother Russia soon enough!" Ivan chirped, gliding a gloved finger around the smooth skin on the navel of his prey, raising a shiver from the Latvian captive.

"N…never!" Raivis blurted, but immediately regretted it. He saw his tormentor's eyes flash dangerously, flinching in his vulnerable position.

Ivan's childlike innocence returned shortly, moving closer to Latvia. In a thin ray of light, Ivan became visible, brandishing a large, rusted metallic pole, and sporting a grin that scared Raivis more than the pole itself did.

"You would look socute speaking in my native tongue, you know." Ivan remarked, leaning close to Raivis, brushing away his sweat slicked hair. "Or…_sucking on it_.." Ivan breathed, pushing his lips upon Latvia's mouth, forcing his tongue deep inside. The Ruski's hand grazed down the Latvian, feeling the aphrodisiac's surefire influence, Raivis was fully erect, and his body was squirming at Ivan's mere touch.

The Ruski cupped the Latvian's balls gently, fingers straying up the shaft. Raivis moaned loudly in response, the aphrodisiac had him so aroused he wasn't sure how to cope with it. He rubbed himself against the Russian's hand, trying to relieve himself through friction alone, although he knew that wasn't likely.

Suddenly Ivan pulled back, now scrutinizing the rusted pole, holding it at more of an angle. Raivis's deep seated fear seemed to leap at his throat, well aware and dreading the Russian's next move.

"I hope you didn't think that was your punishment." Ivan smiled, pinching Raivis's blushing cheeks almost lovingly. "No, no. This is _much _more fun…for me at least." The Ruski remarked, eyeing the Latvian's erect member directly.

"But y-you were already d-doing s-stuff..." Raivis stammered, feeling tears pool in his eyes.

"Raivis, you know how this works, don't you?" Ivan smiled. "_**Sushchestvuet vsegda zatishʹe pered buryeĭ.**_"

"What does that m-"

"Allow me to answer, my dear Raivis." Ivan interrupted, using one arm to lift the boy's waist up slightly, in his other hand, was the corroded, metallic pole.

"There is always calm before the storm." The Russian grinned maliciously, pushing the pole slowly into Raivis's entrance.


End file.
